Karma
by Nocturna Canis Lupis
Summary: Ronny Drake betrayed his only brother. His motives were vague at best. His guilt, never explored. This is his story, and the tables are turned against him.
1. Chapter 1

They took down all the pictures of him. They cleared his room, which had sat waiting for his graduation. They burned every memory of him they ever had, both tangible and intangible. The fire consumed everything. They steeled their hearts and never mentioned his name.

But there was always crying.

"He was so good…why him…?" Medeline would ask. And Steven would change the subject.

As for Ronny…he never said anything. He kept his guilt bottled inside of him much like he had kept his hatred and jealousy hidden before Bobby came home for the last time. He was a boy of secrets, as compared to Bobby, who wore his soul like a suit, baring everything to everyone. He talked as well. Bobby always talked. And Ronny listened. They were always so different. And it seemed as much as Bobby was loved so was Ronny resented and ignored. But things were different now, weren't they? His parents were proud of him for what he'd done…He was the only one now, why wouldn't things be different?

* * *

"Why aren't you eating, honey?" Steven asked his wife. It was a funny questioned considering he had hardly touched her meatloaf himself. But there was no getting over it. Maddy's cooking had not been the same since the day they renounced Bobby. It tasted of cardboard and tears.

"Is there nothing we could do…" The strong, confident woman she had once been was only a distant memory to the shadow she was now. There were dark bags beneath her eyes and violent crows feet around her mouth. Hate and bitterness clouded her eyes into something that her husband found he could not look into. They frightened him. They bespoke of insanity.

"No, honey. Its incurable. He's lost to us now."

"He coud try, he could be like he used to!" she cried, gritting her teeth audibly. Her face contorted in a sort of sickly rage. Spittle glistened on her lips.

"He won't, please calm down, sweetheart." Steven Drake rose halfway from his chair, pondering franticly whether he should risk approaching his wife.

"He was smart! He was good! Why? Steven, why? We've lost our child, our life! What did we do?"

Ronny sat forgotten. His world was spinning, with hatred toward Bobby and yet an unspeakable guilt over his betrayal. The image of his remorseful face turned toward Ronny in his mother's protective embrace flashed behind his eyelids, and suddenly, Maddy Drake began to scream.

"It never stops Steve! He's always in my head, he's trying to drive me crazy, our beautiful baby boy, he's trying to kill me, our freak, our mistake!" She went off into unintelligible mutterings and Steven thought it better to keep his distance as he stared at the less than edible meatloaf. The images haunted him too, of Bobby's face and all those flames…those flames that killed the policeman, those flames that consumed Bobby's report cards and school pictures, that ate their family portrait like their guilt ate the family themselves. They were images so bright and vivid, he thought sometimes that he was reliving the moment…

Ronny lept up, sending his chair flying behind him into the wall. The images grinded into his parents heads, and his mother began to scream louder, her words lost in the agony of her soul. He clamped his hands over his ears and ran from the dining room. His parents barely heard his door slam.

In his room Ronny stared at his hands as though they were foreign to him.. His head was still spinning with images. Horrible ones, of killing, and hating, and betraying. He could see a weird rippling in the air around his fingertips. Tears spilled from his eyes as he realized what was happening to him. He hung his head and let them fall, watching how eerily slow their decent to his floorboards was.

* * *

They ate no breakfast. Medeline had barely the will to cook dinner, and even that meal did not sustain the family. Steven foraged as best he could, while Ronny grew thin and pale. The house and its occupants had become shells, and no one knew it.

Ronny stared out the window, his face dry from his tears. There were still sections of dead grass on theirs and the neighbors lawns, morbid yet subtle reminders of that day. What was he going to do? How could he live with this?

His father knocked on the bedroom door, and Ronny winced, his tears burning his eyes as he thought of the true abandonment he would receive. Bobby had friends. He had always been accepted, no matter what. Ronny…well, he'd always been rejected. And he was the normal one.

"Ronald." Steven Drake said, his voice raspy. He had an idea. Oh, he had a terrible idea. If only he was wrong, if only they could be normal, and pick up the pieces of their lives.

Ronny opened the door. Steven denied the evidence on Ronny's face. "Please." He said. "Not you."

They snaked down his face, so slowly…as if they were made of denser liquid then normal tears. "Father, I—"

Steven Drake gripped his sons arms, so tightly that they both knew there would be bruises. "Tell me." He growled. "Please, God, tell me Ronny!"

He sobbed. "I can't, I can't…" And he felt it rising in him. A primal instinct with a terrifying feeling of more than human. His father's eyes widened, because he saw himself many other times in his life, shaking Ronny by his shoulders, screaming _Why can't you be more like your brother?_ He saw Bobby being born, but not Ronny, no, he was at work, couldn't miss the deal he was making. The images raked across him mind, like the talons of his own sin.

"STOP IT! STOP IT!" And Steven Drake was aging before Ronny's eyes. His face wrinkled, his eyes yellowed, his hair faded to silver white.

Ronny whimpered.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hell no." he growled.

"Logan. Be reasonable. The young man has no one else." Xavier steepled his fingers, giving the animalistic X-man a stern look.

"And that's his problem, chuck." Wolverine scowled, though he knew that intimidating brow would not faze the professor.

"He needs our help."

Logan barked out a laugh.

Xavier sighed. "You realize that your grudge may cost this boy his life."

"Like his little phone call almost cost ours?" He looked away from the professor's eyes. They made him feel guilty, and he hoped to god it was his powers doing it. "Plus, what makes you think he wouldn't be better off with the cops? The kids here know what he did, Ororo _hates_ him, they'll rip him apart." _If I don't first_, he added inwardly.

"That's a risk we're going to have to take. His powers are much too complicated for him by himself to control."

Logan growled.

"Good. You'll be driving Scott's car, I believe you're familiar with which one that is. I've talked with the sheriff on the phone, and he'll be waiting for you. This is a big risk, Logan, because there'll be many people angry over his release of Ronny Drake into our custody. Most of the heat will fall on his department, but some may reach us."

"As if we haven't got enough…" Logan muttered.

"I'll expect you to report to my office with him as soon as you get back, Logan."

Logan continued to mutter as he turned and left his office.

Xavier stared at the closed door through which Wolverine had just exited. _Be careful._ He thought.

* * *

Logan had to ask three people directions when he reached Boston. One of them promptly flipped him off and hurried into the opposite direction. Logan returned the favor and drove on, knowing the professor would be checking up on him through his mind, and would be none too happy if he got some unwanted attention.

As he parked in front of the police station, he felt a sense of foreboding settle inside his stomach. He didn't want to be in the same car as this brat. Didn't want to hear his protests all the way back to the school. Wolverine sneered. He'd probably call back here saying he'd been kidnapped.

"Oh, you must be Mr. Logan." The sheriff said. He was a tall, extremely skinny man, with a mustache that looked like you could sweep with it. He held out a hand for Logan to shake.

Logan hesitated, but shook it anyway. "I'm here for the Drake kid."

The sheriff nodded. "Creepy case that one is…" Logan quirked an eyebrow. "We get mutant calls all the time, Mr. Logan. Some of 'em real live criminals with no business with the powers they got. We've had to remodel this station at least four time 'cause of their breakouts. Can't keep 'em in here. But the rest of 'em are just kids. Kids like my nephew who can't control whats suddenly inside 'em. They make bad mistakes that they don't have no control of. And I've seen some sad and scary cases. But nothin' like this."

"What happened?"

"You know his dad? High flutin' lawyer type?"

"Yeah."

"We've met him before. Some brit nanny they'd hired reported him for child abuse on the youngest one a long time ago. The kid had the signs, he was real quiet and kinda jumpy, and he had bruises, but it never mounted to nothin'. Its not like he beat 'im. So he snaked out of it, haven't heard nothin' since you little friend had himself a bonfire in their front yard."

Logan sneered.

"Yeah, well, the thing is, since then, Mr. and Mrs. Drake have kinda been teeterin' on the edge of their handles. Maddy's been slippin for a while now, while Steve, well, he took a swan dive early this morning. The boy looks like he did the first time I met him, all quiet and teary eyed and a lil bruised, but you should see his father."

"Bub, you're boring me. You gonna tell me what the kid did or not?"

The sheriff smirked wryly. "I'll show you." He walked toward his desk and pulled a picture from beneath a silver paper clip.

Logan stared. He seen the man maybe half a year ago, and here he looked like he'd aged fifty years. "_He_ did this?"

"Yup. I'm no Professor X, but he's got some control over time. The patrol car that picked him up took three hours to get here, and its just a few blocks away. Shook the deputy up pretty bad."

"How—"

"He can't control worldwide time Mr. Logan…I'd hate to meet the mutant who could do that…"

Logan nodded. "I better get going…the professor's waiting for us."

"Yeah, he's back here."

Logan followed.

* * *

They drove in silence. Awkward silence.

Ronny was still remembering his fathers face…the way his teeth tumbled from his mouth…the way his bones creaked as their density weakened so rapidly. What had he done? Who was really the monster? All Bobby did was freeze Mom's tea…

Logan cast dubious glances at his passenger. What anger he'd had toward him had drizzled away and as much as he tried to muster it again, he could not. Why? He suddenly sympathized with this spoiled rich brat who'd actually got him shot in the head. It'd healed, but damn, those things hurt. He had no reason not to make him piss his pants in fear right now.

But he smelled the fear already. The tears and the guilt and a million other motion radiating off of him like cheap cologne. It almost choked Logan as it was.

"You doin' ok kid?" he asked, surprising himself. That's it. He'd lost his mind.

Ronny looked at the hairy professor of art with pained eyes. He wasn't stupid. The man hated him. The memories flashed in his head again:

_Drop the knives_

_BANG!_

_LOGAN!_

Logan twitched. _That was weird_, he thought. He thought he'd heard something.

_I don't wanna shoot you kid._

He looked sidelong at the Drake boy, watching how his eyes were screwed up against some sort of pain. "Hey…I'm serious kid, are you ok?"

_You know all those dangerous mutants you hear about?_

Logan pulled over and reached to shake Ronny's shoulder. Ronny cried out, and Logan was quick to jerk his hand away. He knew enough about Rogue and what he saw in Steven Drake's picture that too much physical contact could be hazardous to your health working under Xavier.

"Did you hear?" Ronny asked, his eyes wide like a frightened animal.

"Yeah, kid…you got some crazy powers there…think you could calm down and keep 'em in check 'till we get to the professor?"

Ronny looked into Logan's dark eyes. He felt strangly calm. He nodded. "I think so."

Logan nodded and took off again.

"Mr. Logan, sir?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"…I'm sorry…"

Logan kept his eyes on the road.


End file.
